And have ye no dismay
by Jinxgirl
Summary: Sequel to Anything but love and To my naked Core. Ficlets. Puck, Santana, Rachel, and Kurt tackle the holidays together. Pretty much fluff.
1. Chapter 1

Holiday Neutral

"Guess what, fellow roommates! Or, perhaps the more accurate term would be apartment-sharers, seeing as none of us actually have rooms, per se, so much as curtained off areas of said apartment," Rachel mused, stopping herself mid announcement to reflect upon her own wording choice.

For a moment as Rachel frowned to herself, touching her chin, Santana actually thought that perhaps she would be let off the hook and the other girl would forget whatever undoubtedly unwelcome proclamation she had been about to declare. However, Rachel soon brightened, flashing a smile in her roommates'/apartment-sharers' directions one by one as she finished her thought.

"It's December first, and you know what that means!"

Santana and Puck, leaning back against the wall near her, exchanged blank stares, absolutely clueless. Both glanced back towards Kurt, where he was seated at the kitchen table, sipping at his coffee, but he too looked nonplussed.

"If it's Barbra's birthday, I don't care," Santana assured her, but Rachel just rolled her eyes at her, huffing aloud.

"No, Santana, of course not, that would be April 24, and I certainly hope you will have that committed to memory by that date, because I do plan to have a party in her honor, even if she can't show up herself, although I do suppose one can always hope. As a member of this establishment and our own makeshift family, you are certainly invited and in fact required to attend as well, and I will not accept excuses of dire menstrual cramps or sudden onsets of scoliosis as you tried to utilize last year."

"I am NOT attending a Barbra Streisand Obsessed Fandom party," Santana's head snapped up, her voice rising slightly with her horror, but Rachel ignored her, literally bouncing on her toes with excitement.

"December first means that it's officially time to decorate our apartment in holiday neutral décor of both Hanukah and Christmas themes! Also Kwanzaa, because although none of us are African-American, Daddy is, and I very well could be, as we are unsure of which of Daddy's genetics are actually mine."

Santana had no immediate retort on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she just stared incredulously at the other brunette, unsure of what to react to first. There was Rachel's declaration that she was unsure of whether she was white or African-American, when you could tell within fifteen seconds of meeting her, without even seeing her physical appearance, that she was clearly the whitest person known to all humanity of all time. There was the fact that this was further underscored by her reindeer sweater, jingle bell earrings, and flashing electric lights necklace, paired with a Star of David necklace as well, and when Santana's eyes dropped to her feet, she saw that she was wearing socks with JOY and BELIEVE stitched over their surface. And when she thought about Rachel's statement that it was time to decorate for not one, but three holidays- and the assumption that the others would help- well, it was enough to leave her nearly speechless.

But not entirely. She still had just enough presence of mind to blurt, "I knew you were fucking insane, but you've soared above and beyond and into the land of loony tunes now, Berry."

"Rachel…just how much decorating you talking about?" Puck asked warily, narrowing his eyes in Rachel's direction, but Rachel continued on, barely deigning to cast a scowl in Santana's direction in response to her rude comment.

"I do not have time to address rudeness and bah humbug attitudes, I simply hope that the two of you will through my planned activities gain an appreciation and acceptance of the required holiday spirit and will join more merrily as our days progress. We certainly do have a good bit of work to do. The decorations alone will take considerable time if done properly, and there will of course be nightly showings together of various holiday films. Group sing-alongs, caroling, certainly as a group, as the deeper voices of the two of you will balance out mine and Kurt's nicely-"

"I'm down for this, surprisingly," Kurt finished his last dregs of his coffee, tilting his head in consideration. "Now, I suppose you might take it far above and beyond the average person's tolerance, but in general, it does sound like fun. There's my annual duet with Blaine, of course, and if you don't know how to ice skate, it would be fun to teach you. We can watch the classic old movies like Holiday Inn, Miracle on 34th street, It's a wonderful life-"

"It's gonna be a miracle if we don't end up staying at an inn during the holidays to just escape the two of you, and the way you're describing it, it's a soul-murdering, terrible life for the next three weeks," Santana said flatly, rolling her eyes. "Are you really serious here? You're gonna try to drag the two of us into your manic "traditions?"

"Well, certainly the two of you are free to make suggestions and your own traditions, seeing as you are a couple…that is what you are, isn't it?" Rachel asked a bit uncertainly, looking between her roommates and noting the close space, without quite touching, in between them. "I'm never entirely sure if you have yet assigned yourself a label, or if you desire to simply exist within your own personal definitions of-"

"Labels off, and tradition wise? We wanna be tradition free and not hit with the crazy festivity fairy and its glitter stick, got that?" Santana warned, holding up one finger, as Puck too nodded, frowning faintly.

"Uh, you might have forgot me being Jewish here or whatever, despite the years of temple together, Rach…so I ain't gonna be turning down any presents, but you can count me out of the rest you got planned. Wouldn't wanna, uh, step on religious freedom, right?"

"Oh, we will have Jewish decorations and activities!" Rachel assured him brightly. "As I explained, all my various ethnicities will be represented, and you will be fully covered, Noah. You can also provide a supportive presence for those of us with Christian backgrounds, to include Santana as well. Now if you will just let me get some of the boxes…"

She bustled out of the room, and after a few moments Kurt stood too, going to help her. Santana stood rooted as though nearly catatonic, eyes still wide, before she turned to Puck in near despair.

"Do we really have to spend Christmas with them?"

"We could just sorta…not come home one day," Puck suggested, and Santana jumped on this, her tone actually seeming to be serious.

"There has to be a cave we can hide in. Or an avalanche we can get snowed under. A zombie apocalypse we can join up and head the fight for? Anything has to be less frightening and dangerous than those two in the midst of holiday fever."

Puck smiled, this time seeming genuine, and reached to draw Santana closer against him, kissing her cheek. Santana leaned into him, exhaling, as he kept her against his side.

"Guess we better leave now if we're gonna, or maybe start to self-medicate. A lot."

"That is an excellent place to hang mistletoe, right there where you're standing," Rachel called as she re-entered the room, seeming to be looking past them rather than at them, and as she dumped a box of decorations, disappearing to retrieve another, Puck and Santana looked at each other again.

"On second thought…the streets aren't exactly toasty this time of year…we can learn to live with them?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Stay still, I can't reach the top of the tree!"

As though to give emphasis to her own words, Santana stretched her arms up over her head as far as they would extend, straining forward slightly and grunting with effort. Puck held her by the waist, lifting her body up towards the tree's top as though she were a child rather than a very stubborn nearly twenty-year-old, even as he rolled his eyes at her efforts.

"You ain't staying still. How the hell am I supposed to stay still if you're moving around and I have to hold you out three feet in front of myself? I gotta keep adjusting so I can keep a grip, San, unless you wanna get dropped headfirst into the tree."

"But I can't reach it! Damn, Kurt, how did you even find a tree this tall, let alone drag it through the door?" Santana demanded, as Kurt sighed from behind her, giving Rachel a pointed stare.

"I didn't exactly…"

"He pushed and pulled and struggled and said quite a lot of unsavory words more usually associated with yourself and Puck, and deposited many pine needles and branches on the floor, before he gave in and allowed for the company to come manage it for him," Rachel filled in the blanks for him, even as her eyes narrowed towards Puck and Santana's efforts. "Really, Santana, it would be so much more simple for you both if you simply used a ladder as we have all suggested numerous times….I know you have an idea about Puck lifting you to place the star on the Christmas tree being very romantic, but if you end up accidentally causing him to drop you and you break all of our ornaments, or if he pulls a muscle lifting you so high-"

"This is not ROMANTIC!" Santana protested, her head swiveling to regard the rather amused, tolerant roommates just behind them, even as Puck had to again shift his hold of her to keep from dropping her at this sudden movement.

"Santana, damn, just put it up there already!"

"It's not romantic," Santana muttered to herself, turning her head back, her nerves obviously struck by this choice of phrase from Rachel. Never mind that she had spent the last five minutes poking Puck, trying to hurry along the decorating choices of the others, in her eagerness to put on the star- and to make Puck be the one to lift her to do it. "It's just…traditional. The person who puts the star on the tree gets lifted to do it."

"Did your father do this with you when you were a little girl?" Rachel asked with renewed interest, her eyes bright with interest at this possibility. "Is that why it's so meaningful to you now? I never hear you talk very much about your father, I do know that most Hispanic men are traditionally rather diminuitive in stature, but if you got smaller trees, perhaps that accounts for why you are not used to being lifted so high, and perhaps that accounts as well for your insistence on being lifted, if it was a yearly tradition. That is actually very sweet, Santana, I certainly understand nostalgia and childhood associations, especially when it comes to holidays, and when you are away from your family it can provide a sense of comfort and-"

"Rachel?" Santana warned, as Puck set her down, stretching out his arms briefly, and then, exhaling, lifted her again. "Stop talking."

"Santana, sentimental and nostalgic?" Kurt's mouth held the words as though they were a foreign taste in his mouth, and he smirked, just shaking his head.

Santana cut her eyes towards him, glaring, but didn't say anything…partly because Rachel's guess wasn't entirely off the mark. She exhaled, choosing to ignore him even as she addressed Puck.

"You seriously can't stretch any higher?"

"Tana…do I look like a fireman ladder to you?" Puck pointed out, rolling his eyes. "Maybe if I step closer to the tree…"

"Don't tell me I'm too HEAVY for you and those arm lumps you call muscles," Santana rolled her eyes, smirking, even as Puck switched to locking an arm around her chest and supporting her backside with his other hand. "Hey, you're supporting me here, not copping a feel, perve-ass!"

"You might not be much weight but it's dead, squirming weight the way you do it, and this obviously ain't gonna work," Puck announced, depositing her on the ground for the second time. When Santana started to protest, giving his arm a little shake, he squatted down in front of her, gesturing for her to mount his back.

"Nope, don't care about traditions, 'Tana. This is the only way it might work. Get on my shoulders and balance."

Grumbling and sighing loudly, Santana nevertheless did as he asked, her legs hooked over Puck's shoulders and dangling down his chest, where he gripped them firmly, trying to maintain maximum support. She leaned forward, her abdomen balanced against the back of Puck's head, and stretched her arms out, straining. When her fingertips just managed to reach out enough to top the tree, she let out a triumphant whoop, fist pumping in victory.

"Yes! Success!"

Her face flushed, dimples digging into her cheeks, she remained balanced on Puck's shoulders for a few more moments, her face aglow with her final success. As Puck helped her dismount, Rachel and Kurt opened their mouths to comment, perhaps to mock her enthusiasm, but something about her expression made both of them shut their mouths and offer soft smiles instead. And when she looked up at Puck, she saw only a gentle smile on his lips as well.

He lifted a hand to stroke her cheek affectionately, leaning in to briefly kiss first her forehead, then her lips, one arm wrapped lightly around her shoulders in an easy hug.

"Yeah, 'cause we did it my way."

"But it was my idea," Santana argued, rolling her eyes. "I was the one who said we could do it, we could figure it out if we put our minds to it. I was the one who said we didn't need no sissy ladder or extending hooks or to throw it like a Frisbee. I was the one who gave you motivation and drive. It was totally my success!"

Puck was aware of Rachel and Kurt behind Santana, their smiles now returned to smirks, their exchanged glances and brief eye rolling that, had she noticed it, probably would have driven Santana to genuine irritation, if not anger, for their dampening of her enthusiasm. But in the moment, however ridiculous the situation might be, Puck wasn't even slightly tempted to join in. Santana was enjoying herself, Santana was proud of herself, however silly the reason might be, and Santana was fully alive in the moment, even after everything they had both been through this year. How much more could he want or hope for? What else could he ask for, this Christmas/Hannukah?

Smiling down at her, he caressed his hand through her hair, giving her head another gentle kiss as he responded, his words referring to much more than the current circumstances.

"Yeah, San. It's totally your success."

When he felt her arms wrap around his waist slowly in a hesitant but genuine hug, Puck held her close, for the length of time that she would allow. Christmas might not be for a few more days, and there would undoubtedly be some bad days in between then and now, days where Santana's fire had again diminished to barely more than a spark over ashes. But now, he felt as though he were alit with a pleasant glow from the outside in, and he savored every second.


	3. Chapter 3

"Your hands are freezing- don't touch me!"

As Quinn yelped, her usually throaty voice rising significantly in pitch, and trying to dodge away from her, Santana grinned, her hands lifted threateningly in her direction. Reaching across Puck, she snatched at Quinn's coat sleeve, almost pulling her down to the icy New York City sidewalks as she tried to yank her close enough to her to be able to physically manipulate her. Quinn nearly squeaked, shoving at Santana's recently ungloved hands, but Santana held onto her firmly, her free hand reaching up to rub over Quinn's face and down her neck. Quinn half shrieked, trying to rear back away from her, and her boots slipped, only Santana's firm grasp of her jacket keeping her from falling on her backside. Puck put out an arm quickly to support her, should she slip again, as Quinn looked to him for help, half glaring, half pleading.

"Santana, you're such a bitch…Puck, help me!" she entreated, but even in her near demand, she was trying to suppress a laugh, and her cheeks were flushed with good humor as well as the cold.

Even as Santana continued to rub her freezing hands on the few pieces of bare skin Quinn had left exposed, laughing gleefully at her own mischief, Puck just shrugged, slipping his own hands back into his pockets as she watched the girls with seemingly casual acceptance.

"Sorry, Quinn, I lost a bet. I figured you weren't really gonna come up here weekend before Christmas and freeze your ass off and let her torment you with snow and icicles however she wanted, and I underestimated your level of self-torture, so. I gotta let her do what she wants for the next week. And you know Lopez, she wants a lot of shit, right?"

"Got that right," Santana said brightly, her dark eyes glistening, dimples showing shallowly in her cheeks as she lightly squeezed Quinn's neck, snickering as the blonde shivered hard and tried to slap her hands away from her. "Speaking of snow…"

"Oh don't you DARE, I will slap you into next week," Quinn threatened when Santana drew away from her, stooping to scoop into her hand a fistful of snow clinging to the sidewalk. "Santana, I swear, you're going to have major hearing loss…Santana that's dirty, don't you dare-"

But Santana had tossed it already, bursting out laughing when it splattered across the side of her head, melting into Quinn's hair. Indignantly spitting out some of the remnants that had gotten in the corner of her mouth, Quinn furiously clawed at her hair, sputtering, "Santana, that got in my EAR!"

It was Santana's turn to dodge next as Quinn seized a handful of her long hair, holding her in place enough for her to flick the bits of snow she had managed to salvage off of herself into Santana's face. Santana just laughed, wiping herself off and throwing an arm around Quinn's shoulder with surprising affection as she continued to walk at a more placid pace.

"Welcome to New York, Q!"

She unwrapped part of her scarf, winding it around Quinn's neck, even as Quinn again shoved at her hands, eyebrows raised high with her suspicion.

"What are you doing, Santana…we can't walk down the street SHARING a scarf, and if you're trying to choke me with it-"

"Yes we can…see?" Santana insisted, tucking it more securely. And then, reaching up towards Puck, she awkwardly tucked the other end around his neck the best she could as well.

The three of them looked ridiculous, Puck was sure, walking down the street with a scarf stretched between them at uneven levels, connecting them like a very strange leash or a three-way yoke. But he said nothing; in fact, he helped Santana secure it more firmly around his neck. Just being there with her, out in the open, in public, showing no signs of fear, no signs of anxiety, nothing but confidence and a childish, playful joy to be with her friend and her boyfriend, walking down the streets surrounded by lights and snow and the festivities of the approaching holiday, was more than enough for him to be joyful himself.


	4. Chapter 4

"'Tana, what the hell are you doing?" Puck asked, one eyebrow raised, as he stood back several feet from his girlfriend in their shared apartment, watching her struggle with one of the stubbornly sticking windows in the living area.

He was the last person left who was willing to stand even that close. Kurt and Rachel had long ago banished themselves to their separate curtained off areas of the loft, wisely assessing that dealing with Santana Lopez yesterday, today, and likely tomorrow as well was not within their best interests if they wanted to avoid verbal tongue lashing, efforts at physical assault, and having personal possessions of their damaged somewhere within their interaction with her. And of course, there was the factor of the germ contamination, but the last time Rachel had tried to mention that as a factor in their avoidance of her, Santana had gone off into such a tirade of fierce protest and denial that she had ended up setting herself off into a coughing fit that had lasted a good minute or two before she could draw her breath, and one of Kurt's vase had been smashed- whether or not this was accidentally, Puck wasn't entirely sure. Because he valued the intactness of his few possessions and he hated to watch Santana suffering, he had decided to humor her the best that he could, instead encouraging Santana to rest as sneakily as possible- but so far, his efforts had yielded few of the desired results.

Santana Lopez was not good with illness, either in herself or in others, and so far, despite copious hoarse coughing fits, what seemed buckets of snot production, and frequent painful-sounding sneezing, often accompanied with full body shivers as well, she was refusing to acknowledge that she might have succumbed. As Puck watched her, incredulous, she continued to fight to open one of the apartment's windows, even as her congested breathing could be clearly heard from several feet away.

"It's hot in here," she huffed, even as she sniffled loudly, continuing to throw her shoulder into her efforts to lift the window to her level of satisfaction. "You Christmas freaks and your metaphorical roaring fires… it's December in New York, it's SUPPOSED to be cold, don't you people fantasizing about being misunderstood starving artists understand that you're not supposed to crank the heat to 90 degrees to get the desired effect? You have to open a window around here just to be able to breathe!"

"Santana, it's snowing outside," Puck pointed out, giving a faint chuckle as he shook his head at her. "You open the window and you're gonna get New York December all over the floor. Our heat's on 67, it ain't like we're sitting in the middle of a sweat shop."

"The fuck is wrong with this- this…ACHOO! ACHOO! Fuck…w-what's wrong with this fucking window?" Santana stammered, sniffling and wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. When Puck, eyebrows raised again, inclined his head in the direction of the tissue box on the coffee table, Santana glared at him, pointedly ignoring him as she again began scrabbling at the window. "Did they super glue this shut?!"

"No, babe, but you did sorta leave the safety lock things latched up," Puck pointed out, unable to suppress a smirk as he nodded towards them. As Santana released a frustrated growl, her slightly trembling hands moving to undo them, he stepped towards her, putting his hands on her shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze. "'Tana, come on. You're shivering, you really wanna create a makeshift blizzard in here?"

"It's hot! It's like they called up fucking Snow Miser in here!" Santana protested. As she slid the window up at last an inch or two, she shivered hard in reaction to the cold air that blew directly against her chest, sneezing again and attempting to clear her throat. "Stop it, Puck…they think it's July in here, I just want to let it actually be December for a while!"

"San, look at your arms. They got goosebumps all over," Puck pointed out, gently running his fingertips over one forearm and hiding a smile when Santana shivered harder at his touch, unconsciously burrowing back against his chest. "You want it to be December Christmassy stuff in here? Come sit on the couch with me, I'll make you hot chocolate and we can watch lame shows on TV or shit. Or whatever. Come on, you ain't gotta have the blizzard life in action in here, you can see it out the window and on TV just fine."

"I'm not SICK, you're trying to treat me like I'm SICK," Santana griped, shaking her head, but she was sniffling hard again, making no effort to step away from the warm circle of Puck's arms and the supportive backing of his chest as the window's crack continued to blow cold air straight towards her chest. Her breath hitched, and she stifled another sneeze into her wrist, even as she continued to shake her head, trying to protest. "Not SICK…"

"Didn't say you were," Puck said gently- because he knew better by now. "Come on, just wanna do different Christmas stuff then you had in mind, that's all."

Santana let him guide her away from the window, shutting it all the way and locking it securely again before half carrying her to the couch. She let Puck tuck her into a pile of blankets and hand her the remote, then curl in beside her, guiding her head to his lap as one hand carded gently through her hair. She didn't drink the hot chocolate he placed in her hand but seemed to appreciate its warmth. It was maybe ten minutes of watching Christmas cartoons without really following the plot, her eyes drifting shut as Puck's hand continued to rest on her head, before Santana spoke, her voice foggy, barely awake, and very hoarse.

"Puckkkk…I think I might be coming down with something."

It was a mark of how Puck had started to learn his place in their still-not-quite-defined relationship that he was able to discard the first five sarcastic responses that came to his head and go with the one that would keep his balls intact.

"Yeah, babe? That sucks. Rest up here and you'll be alright."

And as Santana closed her eyes, beginning to drift to sleep, he stayed with her, secretly proud of himself for having finally cracked the Santana Lopez code.


	5. Chapter 5

"What are you doing, 'Tana?"

Santana threw one brief glance over her shoulder towards where Puck leaned against the kitchen sink, watching her set the serving tray beneath the Christmas tree in the living room area. She raised an eyebrow at him, nodding down towards the tray as she set a tall glass of milk beside it.

"Doesn't it look pretty obvious? You ate enough of these when I was trying to make them to figure out all on your own what the mysterious, chocolate chip filled circular objects here."

"Yeah, I see you're putting milk and cookies under the tree," Puck rolled his eyes back at her, smirking. "But what I'm ASKING you is why you're doing it."

"Don't ask it around Rachel or you're gonna get a thirty slide powerpoint complete with two hour lecture on the legends and mythology of Santa Claus in North America," Santana's lips quirked. She stood, dusting off her knees and legs, and turned to face Puck as she continued talking to him, taking a few steps closer.

"You're gonna draw mice or bugs or something, leaving it on the floor like that," Puck said mildly, shrugging one shoulder. "And if you don't want a thirty slide powerpoint from Rachel about food hygiene or something, you might wanna reconsider tradition stuff here."

Even as he said this, he was smiling, and he reached out to gently rap his knuckle against Santana's cheek. It was nice to see her so interested in something, even something as seemingly silly as leaving cookies and milk out at Christmas Eve- especially when all their presents were already under the tree. He pointed this out to her, even as he ran a hand softly through her hair.

"Got two more questions. One, we already put out gifts out, so you're kinda late on the draw. Two, think about it…you're leaving out cookie and milk to encourage an old fat man to break into our house?"

He said it with a smirk, only intending to tease, but he was bothered by the brief flicker of worry in Santana's eyes at these words. Although she had come quite a long way towards conquering her fears, there were still flare ups of anxiety that sometimes occurred, and when he worded the Santa legend in this way, he had to admit it made him feel a little uncomfortable at the thoughts it provoked, never mind Santana.

He reached to squeeze her shoulder, starting to apologize and soothe if needed, but Santana took a slow breath, shook her head, as though shaking off her own thoughts, and faced Puck determinedly.

"Hey, we got knives and absolutely nothing worth stealing, including the Broadway twins. I'm a traditional girl, and I'm doing my offering to Santa this year, and everyone is gonna go to bed and give Santa the respectful space he deserves to devour thousands of calories in carbohydrates and sugar in peace."

Eyeing her with new suspicion, Puck started to grin, shaking his head.

"So in other words…you're gonna eat the rest of the cookies the second Rachel and Kurt got to bed."

Eyes lighting up impishly, Santana put one finger to her lips and the other to Puck's, grinning from behind it. Impulsively Puck leaned in to kiss her, even with their fingers in between, and he knew she knew without either of them having to speak it aloud that her secret was sealed.


	6. Chapter 6

"Wake up, I want my presents!"

Although Puck could not see his girlfriend, seeing as he was lying on his stomach, his head buried under their blanket, he could definitely feel her, bouncing herself up and down on their bed like a little kid with her enthusiasm. He could feel himself starting to slip and roll closer to the edge of the bed with each subsequent bounce. Since Santana's tendency to take up the majority of the bed had gradually crowded him closer and closer towards it throughout the night, he was now already precariously close to falling off, and as she bounced herself again, he felt one leg actually slip.

"Hey…"he mumbled, his voice foggy with sleep. "Gonna fall…"

Ignoring him, Santana bounced again, and it crossed his mind groggily to wander just how it was that someone so tiny could exert enough pressure to budge his frame at all, let alone with such force.

"Get uppppp it's Christmas! Get up get up get up!"

Another bounce, and then Santana was reaching out to yank the blanket off from over his head, laughing aloud to herself. As Puck blinked several times, then rolled to face her, he saw that she was grinning broadly, dimples visible in her cheeks, and her hair was mussed about her face, static electricity causing it to stand up in several directions. She was wearing no makeup, and she looked like a hyper little girl, absolutely thrilled with the day's date and the anticipation of opening even the small amount of gifts she would receive.

One thing she didn't look was tired, despite the fact that she had kept him up half the night tossing and turning and struggling to settle down enough to get comfortable and sleep. For once, it had not been because she was having nightmares or was too anxious to breathe every time she lay down; she had simply been so excited that she couldn't even begin to try to relax on her own. Although both types of restlessness kept Puck up regardless, he had to say that he greatly preferred the reasons for her sleeplessness from the night before.

Eventually Puck had wrapped his arms around her in a spooning gesture, pressing calming kisses to her neck and shoulders, but even then Santana had twitched and squirmed and rubbed her cold feet against him until he could barely stand it. He would have expected Rachel to be the one up at ready to go at five am, and Santana to be the one crashing hard and sleeping late, but he should have realized that as excited as she had been, it would be her that was up with seemingly no negative effects from her sleeplessness.

But as tired as he was, he couldn't really be annoyed at her waking him up. No matter how many times recently she had shown such happiness and childlike excitement, it never grew old for him, not after the year they had had, and he found her so adorable he wanted to hug and kiss her until she was breathless. He was fairly sure she'd even accept that now…but he also wanted to tease her.

"Who says I got you any presents?" he mumbled with exaggerated sleepiness, yawning and stretching, trying to hide his smile when Santana shoved at him, making an affronted noise in her throat.

"You did too, I saw my name on some of them!"

"Well, you're so naughty…waking me up, stealing my covers, pushing me off the bed, rubbing your icicle feet on me…maybe you don't get anything now. Maybe I switched all the name tags and now you gotta give them all to Rachel and Kurt," Puck tried, even as Santana hit him again, scoffing.

"The hell you say! Like they'd know what to do with good presents! You did give me good ones, right? Come on, get up!"

She shook Puck again, half straddling him, and Puck fake yawned again, turning his face away from her.

"Nah, comfortable here in my cave of darkness and warmth…think I'm gonna stay here all day and just- ow!"

She had socked him in the shoulder pretty hard then, and as Puck sat up again, rubbing the spot and looking at her half in humor, half incredulously, Santana gave another bounce, shaking his shoulders.

"Come

onnnn!"

"Damn, peace and good will to everyone, right?" Puck rolled his eyes. But he locked an arm around her waist, leaning in to kiss her thoroughly as he cupped her face with one hand. Santana kissed him back, seeming temporarily distracted as she moaned softly into his mouth, and when Puck drew back, he kissed her temple, stroking one hand through her hair as he smiled genuinely at her, his heart full.

"You wake up the Broadway twins and I get coffee."

Not arguing this arrangement, Santana bounded up and ran noisily into Kurt's and Rachel's areas, no doubt waking them up in similar fashions. Puck shook his head, still smiling as he padded much more slowly into the kitchen area, beginning to brew the coffee. As the three gradually emerged into his view, Santana glowing, Kurt rubbing his eyes and squinting, Rachel tousle-haired and yawning but also smiling, he watched Santana dive towards the presents at the bottom of the tree, beginning to parcel them out into individual piles. And as Puck came to sit beside her, pressing another kiss to the top of her head, he cherished as a gift in and of itself the way she smiled at him, the way her eyes glowed, how fully relaxed she was when she leaned back against him and let him circle her with his arm.

Later he knew they would probably end up throwing wads of wrapping paper at each other, courtesy of Santana, and forced to sing a huge amount of carols by Rachel. Kurt would probably get into some sort of verbal catfight with Santana, and she would probably have some sort of verbal outburst by ten am. But they would also cook and eat their simple meal together, log onto Facebook and skype to greet their friends and family, and when Santana's parents called later that morning and Puck listened to her talk back and forth to them in rapid fire Spanish, he knew she would curl across his lap and wrap an arm around him almost thoughtlessly, including him without seeming to realize it in her family exchanges. They were creating their own traditions, their own holidays, and he didn't feel stupid to acknowledge that it truly gave him joy.

end


End file.
